Happy New Year!

Differently from recent past years, I've had to work a full day today (12/31) and I will have to work tomorrow as well. It hasn't been a pleasant thing to agree to, but as these days came closer (as late as at the end of last week), I've tried to give it a twist for the better, at least as far as my mood goes.

So as it is, the passing of one year into the other will not be much more special than the passing of one day to the next. But all is well, I have a few heartening plans for 2008, and that gives me something to look forward to.

In 2008 I will be turning 30 (March 8th), my relationship with Eze will be turning 4, my sister Chichi will be turning 21, my brother Kiwi will be 26 (over the 20s peak, huh!).

In 2008 I intend to turn a new leaf in my life (more on that as it develops), and I'd like to also start turning my home into truly mine (my nesting instinct manifests through color, just as Eze's manifests through space management).

In 2008 I hope to be able to travel (there is at least one concrete plan in the horizon), and most of all, I will keep working on my own psyche, so I can finally realize how free I really am. I need to know that, my sanity depends on it.

I hope 2008 brings more blue and sunny afternoons, more sunsets at home, more breezy feelings.

I have no resolutions for 2008 ... it's more like I have resolutions for the rest of my life.

So, as I'm writing this, my pup Caprica is sitting on my lap, being all restless, trying to input some of HER stuff through the track pad. I think I'll just log off now and bid you guys a happy new year celebration.
Thanks for reading! :D

El Perfume

No sé cómo es que uno se olvida de los olores con el tiempo y sin embargo eventualmente el elemento más aleatorio lo resucita como si estuviese pasando de nuevo. Hace muchos años, cuando todavía mi papá era completamente infeliz y tenía dinero, él usaba perfumes como si fueran calzoncillos: no sólo los cambiaba con frecuencia, sino que los usaba el día entero, y al final ya apestaba.

Aparentemente, la fricción continua del shampoo de miel de abeja (fricción absolutamente necesaria, porque bañar a una cachorrita de 3 meses de edad y 15 libras de peso no es tarea fácil si ella así se lo propone), al cabo de un rato termina oliendo a Drakkar Noir ... o alguna otra de esas pestilencias que usaba mi papá. También es increíble cómo uno le puede tomar cariño a un olor que en cualquier otro caso terminaría provocando una migraña.

Al oler eso, la memoria viajó a una parte que hacía tiempo no visitaba. Era una época problemática, de consternación y confusión. Todos esos años en los que mi papá no fue feliz y en los que no sintió la necesidad de ocultarlo sirvieron para conocer un lado de él que prefiero no repetir. Era algo gris, opaco, oculto, oscuro. Los regaños provocaban más terror del que pueda tenerle uno a mi papá en estos días, y los momentos felices frecuentemente tenían la sensación de un chocolate hueco.

Mis hermanos y yo creo que nos acostumbramos a ese tormento interno de nuestro papá, creo que por eso nos rebelamos tan asquerosamente cuando al fin conoció a alguien que lo hizo sonreír desde adentro nuevamente. En ese momento, mi papá dejó de usar perfumes. Creo que finalmente ya no le hacía falta la máscara.

Realization

Realization sometimes dawns in multiple steps and phases. Most of times the first phase is already 'too late'. For example, realizing two weeks before graduating with a BA in Commerce/Computer Systems is 'a bit too late' ... or so you think, until you start committing to a house, a car, a way of life that only a professional career will pay for. THEN it's too late, for real.

A few false starts later, feeble attempts to bleed my anxieties, looking for ways to feel less like part of the corporate flock ... it proves that yes, you were late in realizing, and the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be to effectively remove yourself from the huge March of the Android Sheep. All the what if's have piled up in your brain to form a burning scar that throbs each time you fail at excelling at something you don't even care about.

So, it's about time I did something. It might not be the easiest way "out", but it will be a relief not to stay put just because it feels like a societal mandate to keep the one career you chose when you were merely 18 and thinking with your twat.

Writing has been in my blood since birth, I suppose. Nothing else explains that as soon as I learned to put my ABCs on paper, I immediately proceeded to compose poetry and draw accompanying illustrations. Nothing else explains that I've been keeping journals since my hormones started creating havoc on my psyche. Nothing else explains that the only activity that feels like second-nature to me is putting words to the music my soul sings. I may not be an excellent writer, and to some (I know), I lack whatever talent would deem me brilliant to their eyes. Little do they know that it's not so much about wooing them into helpless admiration, it's much much more about relieving myself, doing what my innermost being craves time and again. I cannot help it: I write, therefore I am. Can't be one without the other.

So for the first time in my life I'm seriously contemplating following what my instinct has been since I've been a wee child. I won't give more details than that, I tend to be superstitious "just in case", so I don't tell so as not to jinx it. But it will take time. In the end, I hope I have something to show for it. For the while being, I don't plan to stop writing here, it's all that's keeping me sane, away from high ledges and nefarious pills. In the way there, you might figure out what it is. As always, my problems and my blisses bleed into my words.

Want!

These past few days have been a bit of a Self Crisis. If I were turning 45 in the next March 8th, I'd say I was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. What I refuse to admit, though, is that I'm having a Turning 30 Crisis, 'cuz that is just plain stupid, and I will have none of that in this house (my body is a temple!).

I've been feeling the strongest of urges: to go out drinking, to get a tattoo, to cut my hair, to dye it blue-black (again), to get my nails done, to do a total overhaul of what "Diana" has come to mean in the past few years. I had never felt so strongly about these things, and I'm a bit scared of going near any shopping mall, in fear that I might get drawn into it and shop myself a new self-image, leaving my credit card maxed out and my economy whimpering on a thin line.


Unfortunately, Ebay exists, and I've already succumbed to the purchase of 2 pairs of spiral taper plugs (earrings, for those not familiar with bod-mod lingo): one pair black, the other red. And I'm on the lookout for Hermes sandals, which are not that easy to find (good quality, i mean. The rip-offs abound and will give you a blister you will not soon forget). What else lies in store for this phase of compulsive buying and tendency to make myself over? I dunno. I bought a henna conditioner treatment yesterday, but that is just a lame pacifier for the forces that usually cause my transformations. It's like stopping a hurricane with a butterfly net.

*sigh* The itch for ink has just begun. Whip out your tattoo guns, boys. It's just a matter of time before I enter a door asking for mayhem on my skin.

In Pain

I'm feeling like shit (emotionally), my back hurts (for real) and the day didn't get off to a good start since yesterday.

Thankfully, I decided to take my car for repair work on the A/C later in the month, 'cuz my plans would have been shot to hell anyways. Both options I had for a lift (Mom & Eze) had to leave their cars (Eze's car won't turn on, and Mom noticed her car making a weird noise).

The day looks bleak, gray .... just like the future. Bleak. Gray.
I need a shot of adrenaline, maybe some alcohol, maybe a good talk. I dunno. Or maybe I just need to shut up and go back into myself like I've been expected to, like I've tried doing all this time.

I loooooove my perfume

Wish you had smell-a-vision. Then you'd be able to smell this...

I know, it's classified as "WTF" if it's coming from me, tooting Puff Daddy's horn for designing such a delicious fragrance (or tooting P. Diddy's horn at all). It was unintentional and the associations to the perfume made the purchase so much easier (and impulsive).














A few months ago I started reading the Sandman comic series by Neil Gaiman, and about time, given the whole lot I had heard before about the comic. I loved it, and I immediately connected with Delirium.

Thing is, one day I'm walking around a mall, and I picked up a small paper card sprayed with this perfume that I pretty much liked. I stowed the paper away, and took it home, used it as a bookmark for Brief Lives. The perfume permeated the whole book, accompanied me in the Delirium-ridden story, got into my nostrils and my senses until the smell of it was forever associated with Dream and Delirium.

This past weekend, Mom insisted on taking me shopping, and I budged. There were more than a few things I was wanting/needing. I decided to go snooping around Macy's perfume department, and I really don't understand how I recalled the name of the perfume so clearly. What I didn't remember so well was why I was remembering a perfume named Unforgiven.

As soon as I whiffed at it again, the decision was made, I had to have it. This perfume IS Delirium, this perfume IS Dream. It wasn't until I was drawing out the credit card to pay for it that I noticed what the signature on the back stood for.

Puff-fucking-Daddy, aka Sean John. Jeez!

But then again, he's got a better nose for fragrances BY FAR than all the little Hollywood bitches designing stenches for the gullible masses.

Playlists - Intro and Part 1 of 9: A Cry From the Inside

Since the era of the mix-tape I’ve always been fascinated by playlists. I love making them, and I believe some insight can be gained to the way a person’s mind works by looking at his or her playlists. Since the invention of social websites and rings, I’ve encountered a few invitations to make up “The Soundtrack of Your Life” by determining which song fits this or that special event in your life. Later on, the web itself has spawned more than a few music-profile websites (see: Last.FM, Pandora Radio, eMusic) in which you make your own playlists by listening to the music you love, and in the process discover new things to like.

My listening habits have obviously changed from the time I taped songs off the radio (in an attempt to save a few bucks, ‘cuz it’s not easy for a 12-year-old to come by $15 to buy a cassette just for the one song she likes). In the process, my playlists have become more varied, motley if you will, and yet, I always come back to the basics, to the songs that were the soundtrack to my puberty, to my childhood even.

I want to share the playlists that have recently taken residence in my iPod (yeah, that creaking antiquity of an iPod Photo which no one has anymore). You might find some things as embarrassingly commonplace as a Thalía hit (because, come on, admit it! There was at least one time in your life in which you danced to Menudo in diaper-clad bliss. Or perhaps there was at least one marquesina party in which you enjoyed Richard Marx more than you’d care to admit….). Likewise there are things so obscure that they never left the household (like the enjoyable song blueprints my brother used to cook up with Fruity Loops).

My intention, however, is not to bedazzle anyone with my hipness or my musical knowledge. I know I possess neither of those things. But I do have an immense desire to finally share some of my feelings about the music I love without limiting myself to rigid formats, without having to wait for the inspiration to review the latest album by Björk (which I loved, by the way, but I rarely ever know how to express my reactions logically enough to call it a review).

So, without further ado, I introduce my Playlist series, in which I shall post almost every day one of my 9 playlists, including a heartfelt description and explanation of why I decided to put all that music together under one (very unapt) title.


A Cry From the Inside

This was actually one of the most whimsical playlists to make. It includes songs and pieces which to my ears sound as if they were truly heartfelt. It could be the quiver of a violin line, or the sound of a broken heart through a skillful voice, what places these pieces together is that they earnestly pluck the heartstrings.

Unfairly enough, this is the only playlist to feature Antony and the Johnsons. Such a beautiful voice should be given more chances to be heard. However, as with other artists and albums, I haven’t fully gotten to the groove of Mr. Johnson just yet.


"Why won't you listen to me more, you bitch!?"

Artists prominently featured in this playlist are:


Deftones – Chino Moreno’s voice, though not exactly artful in the classical sense, has always managed to give me the shivers. So it has come to be that the music by his band is not only one of my favorites, but it also brings not-so-distant memories flooding back, feelings of misplaced hopefulness included.



Superaquello – This band, contrary to Antony, is repeated over and over throughout most playlists. It’s my favorite local band, and with good reason too. Eduardo and Patricia (the lead singers) can swing your mood around into “Play Time”, just as well as they can reach into your throat to squeeze those tears out. If you add to that mix the incredible talent of their fellow bandmates (Francis, Jorge and Pablo), you get an all around Cry-and-Dance Machine.


The Cranberries – My high school sweetheart introduced me to this band back in 1994. The Cranberries made up a huge chunk of the soundtrack to those memorable years. The transition into college included a compulsive obsession to look like Dolores O’Riordan, and songs like “Empty” and “Disappointed” accompanied resentful tears when I started a custom of fighting with Dad. Even later on, the album Bury the Hatchet was the background music to one of the most scarring moments in my life. Dolores’s voice is a fixed feature in my life.

Other artists worth mentioning in this playlist are Damien Rice, whose heartbreak anthem, “Cheers Darlin”, I adopted off the one that now sleeps by my side; Marianne Faithfull, with the crooner “Who Will Take My Dreams Away”, which was shared between two excellent movies I loved: The City of Lost Children and La Fille Sur Le Pont; Múm, which you will notice is a recurrent artist among my playlists; and likewise, Tori Amos.




Download A Cry From the Inside.doc

This was supposed to be different

I had this entry written out in my mind some 15 minutes ago, but now it's gone. I was in the passenger's seat of Eze's car fifteen minutes ago. I think I need a small electronic tablet, something to record my thoughts as they happen. If I let it go, I m ight never get it back again. Fickle fickle fickle inspiration.

It was all about how Eze and i see and do things differently in life. He's usually the keen observer, while I remember things more like a collage, or "like a trailer of glimpses and brief moments, spliced with images burned onto the wooden cortex of my mind." (see? that bit I did remeber! yay!) There was much more to say though,but it all seems moot point now. Another article/essay that never came to be. Bad too, because it's been a long while since I've written regularly.

It's the job, really. I like working for the company I work for, but the irregular hours and the stres over the learning process leave me with very little energy to sit down to write in the evenings. If you add the spent energy necessary to keep a clean house with a new puppy (with full run of the house during the daytime), you'll understand why I've been mostly absent from my writing hobby. Not so with my beading hobby, but that is only due to yesterday evening, which I spent at a friend's house. There was a beading demo from a representative for a company that sells Swarovski jewelry. I didn't buy anything (the kits were a bit on the pricey side for my standards) but I put together a couple of pieces, which inspired me to make a piece of my own today.


Caprica did something this morning that totally blew my mind, I've never seen a dog doing anything like it. She started pawing the water out of her bowl onto the floor, and after she had made a small pool of water at the kitchen's entrance, she started running around the dining table and back to the puddle... and as she got to the wet area she'd let herself slide. She apprently likes the waterworks more than she's let on before :D Totally nuts!

Little Notes #7: This must be my day!

#1, Found this on eBay, and although I'm not gonna bid on it (what for, really?), it was yet another nostalgia trip to renew my memory of this tin lunchbox.


Specially of the matching thermos, which never sealed completely and would always let some of the juice out onto my napkins, utensils, other thermos or even worse, onto my sandwich.



#2, I just learned that Guillermo del Toro is producing a film adaptation of one of my favorite comics: Death: The High Cost of Living, and he wants creator Neil Gaiman to direct! Awesome move! And I'm SO looking forward to it, it's scary. They could also fuck it up so many ways :-(












All hail the Endless!

Just like a newborn

Being mom to a new puppy that still doesn't know how to go potty on the papers and who hasn't learned bite inhibition is somewhat stressful. More so when she also wakes me up every single day at 6 AM, regardless of whether it's Monday or Sunday. I'm guessing it must be a bit like being mom to a newborn, with the biggest difference being that my plight will be over in two-years' time, whereas a kid's mom will have to deal with her human pup for a minimum of 18 years.

Nonetheless, I'm happy with Caprica. She's a handful, and I'm expecting that, as she grows, this set of problems will give way to new ones.

Her mange is finally clearing up, but the vet found she's also got a case of skin fungus. I now have to apply a spray lotion that apparently feels as foul as it smells, 'cuz she squirms like crazy every time I treat her (twice daily). But I trust she will be fine, she's growing pretty fast (or maybe I'm imagining it, but she definitely looks healthier than the day I picked her up).

She loves playing with empty toilet paper rolls, she mistakes the potty pad for a plaything (or a sleeping area), she loves jumping and running circles around us whenever she's pumped for play, and she's already got a taste for sleeping in bed with us (otherwise she'll jump and whine until she gets a lift).

However, strangely enough, not a single bark yet, not really, not since ... weeks ago! I mean, this is the most silent dog I've ever known. Not quiet, just silent. Heh heh! She's gonna be a cutie!!! ^_^

Until you came into my life (finally!)

I got a call last Friday night, 2 puppies found near a school, abandoned, motherless, hungry, and impossibly tiny. My friend knew I was looking to adopt soon, so she thought I might be interested, and I was, but more than that, I was skeptical. Abandoned street puppies tend to have more than a few diseases, without mentioning skin and stomach parasites. More trouble than I thought I was willing to bargain for.

So I set out for Caguas on a Saturday afternoon to see what the puppy was like (the little boy was taken right away, only the female was left). I was expecting the worst, and I had my mind almost totally set on limiting myself to help take the puppy somewhere where she'd be well taken care of.

I wish I could say that I fell in love as soon as I set my eyes on her, but that was not the case. The creature was too small, too young, she still smelled strongly of mother milk and that was not a good sign. I was convinced this puppy was going to need bottle feedings every few hours and a lot of attention: things I cannot give because I have a full time job. The skin on her tail was heavily scabbed, and her fur was dull and dirty. All in all, she wasn't in so much a bad state as I expected, but she was far from top shape.

I set out for Humacao right away: I had heard of this place called El Faro de los Animales, a no-kill care center for abandoned animals. I had never gone there before, so all I knew was that it was in Humacao, and the approximate area it could be found.

To sum it up: I spent 2 hours driving, and I never found the place, much less a single local soul that new what I was talking about. I stopped at a few gas stations and supermarkets on the way, no one knew anything. I'm not very surprised.

Thing is, during those two hours, the puppy was such a great sport! She slept all the time I spent driving, and it was only whenever I stopped that she opened her eyes and lifted her head (as if saying "Are we there yet?"). The one time in which, as I started to step out of the car to go into yet another gas station, she energetically expressed her impatience with a series of barks and whines (all the while keeping to her small box and looking at me like "Heyyy! What's with the delay?! I'm hungry!") ... well, that's when my heart got hooked. After that, I didn't look for the place so hard anymore and started devising a plan to be able to care for her (at least for a little while).

So I took her to my mom's for a pit stop, left her there so I could go buy a few bare necessities for her care (including tick & flea shampoo, a small comb, puppy formula, etc), but we left her with a tiny plate with some mashed moist dog food. When I gt back, I was suprised to see she had eaten it all up. No bottle feedings for this lady!

Meet Caprica. She's still in her baby phase, just learning how to move and walk. Stubbornly silent, except for the occasional bout of barks sparked by things we haven't figured out yet (she has only barked once at home, I guess she got excited over the soundtrack to Battlestar Galactica too!). Misses the paper half of the time, but I'm confident she will get better at it, she's still just a baby, no bladder control yet. Her first visit to the vet revealed she's got intestinal parasites (normal in most puppies) and sarcoptic mange (not so normal, contagious even to humans, and potentially fatal if not treated). She spends most of the days in our tiny bathroom, but we let her out while we're in the house. We will eventually move her to the kitchen and laundry, as soon as I am sure she won't fit under the fridge or behind the washing machine.

She loves playing as most puppies do, and it is sometimes intimidating to know that I am somewhat expected to substitute a bouncy, energetic peer as her playmate. But Eze has been a gigantic help, and it's not so overwhelming with him around. He's fallen into the daddy role so well and so fast, it is scary (in a charming way, of course!). And I found myself for the first time foregoing my own meals and necessities in favor of helping out a tiny helpless creature. Unexpected from myself... and I feel changed. I guess that's a pale version of what mothers go through when they give birth.

I'll stick to dogs, though. Caprica will be more than a handful in a few weeks. ^_^ I'm looking forward to that!
(... I finally got the puppy from my heart! I'm SO happy!)

In Absentia

Eze's been away for 4 days now. It's not much, but it feels like eternity. You know it feels like eternity when you start getting used to being by your own in the evenings and mornings. But you're not so used that you forget that there is someone who usually comforts you when you wake up in the middle of a stormy night, ridden with nightmares about shape-shifting trees that murder people. It's the void in the pillow next to you that hurts the most... but you've gone numb.

Nonetheless, I've kept myself mostly busy:

On Saturday I went shopping with my mother: one of the most productive shopping sessions I've had in my life (and I hate shopping). In the evening, I tended to the usual in Frecuencias Alternas.

On Sunday I received a visit by Alysha and Tattiana. We cooked ground meat for taquitos and I made a batch of polvorones. In the meanwhile we watched Andres López's Pelota de Letras (a Colombian comedian and his 3-hours-long stand-up routine, very funny, but exhausting!).

Monday and Tuesday have obviously been work-days, but I've managed to spend the evenings in something other than moping. I've already finished watching season 3 of Doctor Who (which was not as tragic as the ending of season 2, but just as enjoyable). I've also come across a few interesting contacts, namely Rasputina's manager (I contacted him regarding a rumored recital to be held here in Puerto Rico in November, and as he confirmed so kindly, I took the liberty of asking about the possibility of interviewing them over the phone for Frecuencias Alternas - he hasn't answered yet, but the exchange was interesting enough for me).


I also found out about a private animal shelter (No-Kill) in Humacao: El Faro de los Animales. They're a non-profit organization (with no funding by the government) that's dedicated to the care of homeless animals and the search of loving homes for them. They have a series of different programs to allow the public to participate and help as much as they can with this mission. I'm seriously considering spending at least 2 days a month in this place and help out with my time (every other saturday or some similar arrangement).

Oh ... yeah, and the reason for this last discovery: I'm looking for puppy. :-) I finally feel ready to adopt a little bundle of canine love. Let's see how soon it turns out to be.

In Shambles

Well ... I've just watched what usually counts as a season finale for Season 2 of the "new" Dr. Who series, and all I can say is ... I'm in shambles. I'm aware that I'm way behind schedule (I think they're past Season 3 now), but I've been watching it slowly in my own time ... so I got there now.

Earlier on in the evening I heard one of the most touching songs I know (again), and it touched me to the core (again!). I was planning on making an entry on it later on, but after watching this last episode ("Doomsday"), it's heartbreaking to see how much one fits the other ... tragic, really.



Do You Realize?
by The Flaming Lips


Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize - we're floating in space -
Do You Realize - that happiness makes you cry
Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize - Oh - Oh - Oh
Do You Realize - that everyone you know
Someday will die -

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize

A Hole in My Forehead

If I hear screams outside - and not your run-of-the-mill play-like scream, I'm talking about bloodcurdling, hair-rising screams - I'm the kind of person that will peek through the door's eye-piece or look out the window. Unless it's gunshots we're talking about, in which case I'll move to the innermost part of the apartment in a hurry (and it has happened more than once already). Same goes for numerous and insistent siren wails. Part of me does it because I want to be in the know (be it for the reason that it may: I like being a well-informed citizen ... or I'm just turning into an old, gossipy fart!). The "bigger" part of me does it because it gets a thrill - an adrenaline surge - out of other people's emergencies and crises. Same goes for when a hurricane is announced. The tornado-chaser in me wakes up and smiles a little bit.

Until now this part of me has had no bearing in my fortune. My curiosity has not gotten the best of me, not to the point in which any onlooker could be tempted to start talking about dead cats and such. But last night, in my dreams, it did.

I dreamt some regular Joe broke into my apartment with me in it. I tried to force him back outside, only to run into the grim figure of a dead neighbor. I had seen too much and the guys with the guns knew it. I knelt and I looked for the longest time into a brushed steel barrel (sort of flat-ish) and then it was over.

Next thing I know I'm looking at a mirror in a bathroom (not the mirror in my bathroom, but then again, dreams are fickle when it comes to spaces and appearances). What's wrong with all of this is: I'm alive but I have a gunshot wound in my forehead and there's blood streaming down my face and across my chest. Dry, caked blood. I'm supposed to be dead, but all I have to prove for it is a zit-sized hole ... a zit-size smoking, gaping hole. Not supposed to be there, was it?

Then again, when some people started visiting my home, I realized most of them were seeing something completely different to what I saw in the mirror. Something completely different from what I look like (I'm under the impression, perhaps out of a glimpse I got during the dream, that I was a girl with long, light-brown, wavy hair). I had reincarnated almost immediately, I realized, out of concern for what would happen to Eze.

I woke up with a start. It was scary enough to see me dead in a mirror. Dead-but-alive. Holding on to dear life, even if it meant invading someone else's body, out of concern for Eze. Thing is, I think I'm not afraid to die so much as I am afraid of missing out on the lives of my loved ones.

Our Visit to the San Diego Zoo

I can commune with a Kitschy Bear too!, originally uploaded by dhevi_anais.

I am no militant animal rights activist, but I feel pretty passionately about the subject, specially when it comes to issues such as animal cruelty, most predominantly in circuses and puppy mills.

I understand that the idea of keeping a wild animal in captivity is not quite right, it's not fair at all to the animal's inherent right to freedom and domain of his own territory and life. However, we've already fucked up the planet enough that sometimes an animal's territory and free life are not what's best for its survival and well-being. That's why I'm not 100% against zoos. During my visit, the San Diego Zoo convinced me that they too feel that way in the most part, and the animals they keep, even if their space is much more limited than what a free range would be, are healthy and well cared for.

Besides, and this is the selfish, Elmyra-like part of me talking: I like seeing animals up-close, specially those I haven't seen before. It gives me a rush to the head like few other things do.

The San Diego zoo is huge like none I've previously visited. I haven't seen all that many zoos. To be honest, I've only visited the Zoológico de Mayagüez (the main Puerto Rican zoo), the zoo inside the Science Park in Bayamón (terribly depressing, I'm amazed they haven't been shut down), the Matecaña Zoo in Pereira and the Miami Metro Zoo (a free-range zoo, most probably bigger than the San Diego Zoo, but I was way too young when I visited, so I don't remember too well). Thing is, I wasn't quite ready for the vastness of the zoo. More than half a day wasn't enough to see everything there was to see. We missed the big cats and the monkeys, for example. However, they have set tourist traps outside every main attraction. I think that's a way of not only selling every plushie, keychain, resin figurine and t-shirt imaginable, but it's also a way to guarantee that no one will get to see the whole zoo in a single day, so they'll buy a 2-day or 3-day pass for the next time.


Our main goal for the day was to NOT get lost inside the zoo, and at least that we achieved. We got on the tour trolley as soon as we got inside, just to get a gist of how the zoo was laid out. In spite of our best common sense, we sat on the top tier of the bus. I got a nice sunburn on my arms as a result, but we got to see some of the exhibits from a nice vantage point. No big cats nor monkeys, though. They like the dark, apparently, so their exhibits are not as easily accessible or viewable.

I tried to take as many pictures as possible from the vantage point the top tier offered, but the point came fast enough in which I was so amazed by everything that I didn't know where to look, much less where to point the camera lens. So Eze took the camera from my hands and took some pictures himself.

Yay for a smiling and confused Diana!

After the trolley, we got on the Skyfari (an aerial tram), which would have been totally fun, but instead was totally hilarious, as I realized Eze is pretty nervous about unsecured heights. I laughed all the way to the other side of the zoo. Yes, I'm evil that way.

We then visited the polar bear exhibit: a huge tank with some rocks and overhangs to provide shade for the bears. The special part is that the tank has an observation room that allows the public to view a side section of the water as well, so we could enjoy what was going on underwater just the same as what was going on at the top. At that hour, the little Coca-Cola pals were having some nap time, however. I was amazed at how much they look like dogs, not ferocious at all. I guess I'd be of a different mind if I were stranded in the Arctic pole (or on the island of Lost).


After that we ambled around a bit, ate some cheap-ass churros (after tasting some decent copies in here, having imitation churros at a zoo park is a lukewarm experience at best). Caught some four-legged, hooved friends, including the ever-so-hailed zebra - which is just like a donkey glorified by very funky stripes.

One of the biggest highlights of the trip to the zoo was seeing the pandas. Pandas are said to be on the verge of extinction, mainly because of their refusal to have sex (therefore procreate), plus they insist on eating only bamboo, which is a very frail plant that gets wiped out with incredible regularity. It seems to be a species bent on self destruction, just like us humans. I guess that's why we:
1) insist on meddling in their affairs and keep them in captivity, every once in a while goading them to fuck, utilizing increasingly weird methods of encouragement, and
2) get all teary-eyed, sympathetic and soft-hearted at the sight of one of these distant cousins to the raccoons. However, when we see a raccoon, we can't help but thing of garbage, go figure!


However stupidly suicidal as this species seems to be, having them so close was almost magical... and I couldn't stop thinking of my sister all the while.

There was also the issue of the kiwi. I really wanted to see one of them, SO much, principally to take a few pictures to show my brother (he has been nicknamed "Kiwi" since he was 14 years old). We deviated from the fastest route and took the most up-hill trekk to be able to see these birds. I was SO curious, I had never seen one of these up-close. I arrived to the exhibit only to be greeted by a slab of metal, a note on kiwis, saying that these are nocturnal birds and that the exhibit had been set up with a lighting scheme similar to moonlight, to increase to probability of the kiwis showing during open hours. GODDAMMIT! The exhibit was fucking dark as hell, and worse yet, no kiwis showed! >-( Goddamned antisocial animals!


Yep! That's a very frustrated Diana, trying to be contented with having a picture taken with a fucking board...


One new favorite animal after this trip? The meerkats! I was very surprised by these fellas. I was under the impression that these animals were as big as a small dog, but when I saw these bite-sized bundles of playfulness, I was hooked. They're small, they're cute, they're playful and they're carefree. For the time we were there, three or four meerkats were playing around under the sun, tumbling and running onto each other and flopping belly-up to bask in the sunlight. They made a fan out of me in a couple of minutes!

Finally we stopped by the elephant pen: two Asian elephants and an African one share a relatively small territory. I don't know how they pull it off, and it seems as if the reduced space has kept the elephants from growing into their full-fledged glory. Or maybe as an adult I've grown to expect things as majestic as elephants to be as huge to my eyes as they were to my 8-year-old self.

We wrapped it up by visiting the koala exhibit. Funny thing is, while the koalas held behind acrylic sheets were stuffing their faces, the ones sitting in their trees outside were all curled up in their sleep in an exactly identical fashion. These little critters seemed fragile to me, not in a baby-cute way, but in an old-geezer-who-needs-your-elbow-to-stand-up sort of way. It's like getting a grandpa wrapped up in extra-fuzz.

We left the zoo with lighter wallets, but we at least got the idea that next time we should dedicate more time to the visit, and maybe even give more attention to the Wild Animal Park.

BTW: You can visit my Flickr set of our visit to the San Diego Zoo and get the whole gist of the paseo: I took tons of pictures and included more than a few comments. So feel free to drop by, look around and leave comments ;-)

Our Visit to San Diego - The Town

That's better!, originally uploaded by dhevi_anais.

We got to San Diego on Tuesday (July 24th) at midnight. Ravenous, thanks to the overprice of airport food and the hairline slit of a time frame between connecting flights, we were oh-so-thankful when we realized, already in the room, that there was at least one pizzeria available for delivery until 3am. Nothing could have prepared us for the kind of yuckiness such pizza would possess: it was progressively bad as you ate it, until at the end you were only minutes away from disemboweling your disgust at the porcelain throne. Hahahah! Thankfully, the rest of the trip fared much better, food-wise.

The free breakfast was way better, as Pepe can attest! Thank you, Pepe! The offer was "Free Continental Breakfast", and I was expecting a deluge of fruit and seeds, like a huge trail mix on a plate. I was pleased to find that they also included cereal, pastries, muffins and a small toaster oven.


The first day, we went immediately to find our feet: bought a 4-Day Tripper and saw a bit of downtown San Diego, before heading for the Zoo (I will talk at length about the Zoo on a later post). After the Zoo, we headed immediately to the convention center for Comic-Con Preview Night (I will also talk at length about the Comic-Con on a later later post). At the end of all that flurry of activity, we were tired and incredibly hungry again (the San Diego Zoo doesn't offer a great variety of fair-priced, healthy, hearty meals ... just nachos, fajitas and churros, and all of it is junk-food quality and overpriced. The convention center didn't have any food stands open either, I think. So after some bickering and dawdling, we finally plopped our sorry and tired asses on a sports bar/restaurant named the Lobster Baja Burrito mutherfucker ... No, that's not the actual name, but it was equally long and I didn't keep a memento to remind me. The food was yummy, fairly priced, and abundant. I was a happy camper, and I think my travel buddies were happy as well. We went to sleep full and contented.

After that, the rest of the trip was mainly about the Comic-Con. For the next couple of days, we woke up at about 7am had our Free Continental Breakfast, and headed for the convention center. On Thursday, we decided to visit the Horton Plaza, a sort of mall in a totally different style from the ones I've seen so far in my life and travels: it has steps and levels all over, pretty but confusing! Pepe says he visited one just like that in L.A. I wonder if that's the ways malls are all over California...

We found another gastronomic haven at the Horton Plaza that night: the something-something Café (sorry, my memory is hideously bad when the rest of the body is taking over all the energy), which is sort of like a deli-style market with a small grill outside. We ate ... a LOT. I'll have to say: when they advertise grain bread, they DO mean grain. It was unnerving to feel thick, chewy seeds inside my sandwich. The grilled chicken alfredo pasta (cold!) was awesome, and I finally had my first Cherry Coke ever! I bought a Cherries n' Cream soda and a canned cold "frappuccino" drink from Cinnabon for the road (they were good too!). I also tried their berry parfait: not so good.

On Friday night we took the wrong bus, ended up pretty far from the hotel, had to take a taxi all the way back. It was a creepy experience, mostly because (in the bus) I sat in front of a guy that at first sight looked all normal and primped. After a while I noticed he was laughing to himself for no apparent reason (no Bluetooth hands-free cell phone system nor headphones were on sight) and he was also sucking his thumb (a full grown man!) and fondling his own chest. Ew!!! and Weird!!! After that, I couldn't fully gather my nerves again that night.

Saturday was the oddest day: we woke up at 3:50 to head out as early as possible to the convention center (that day the Battlestar Galactica and Heroes panels were to be held). We had the bestest of days there, topped off by a nice and cheap meal at the resident (fish) taco place: Rubio's Mexican Grill. It was more than fairly priced, the fish taco was decent (at least) and the rest of the food was quite yummy. We visited once more before heading back home, just so you know. We even wished we had the money to bring the franchise to Puerto Rico, it would dethrone Taco Maker and Taco Bell in the bat of an eyelash.

Sunday and Monday were sort of wind-down days: Eze and I didn't leave bed until past 9 am. Both days we totally missed breakfast hour, but bless Mari and Pepe! they brought us some breakfast to the room (talk about friendly room service!) On Sunday we ventured far into Gaslamp street and ambled into a small, posh restaurant (don't remember the name either). The prices were a bit hefty, so I ordered a prosciutto pizza (nice! topped with red onions and goat cheese, although it irked me that they put the prosciutto in the pizza before cooking it, so the ham was sort of over-salty and chewy ... a total pet peeve of mine).

On Monday, to while a bit of time away before leaving for the airport, Mari and I walked a block from the hotel to a local Salvation Army thrift shop. I left with 5 "new" shirts (of which 4 turned out to be pretty decent buys for $3.50 apiece) and a few other trinkets. We arrived at the airport at 3 pm to wait for our flight, which left at 10 pm. Pretty long wait but the San Diego airport is pretty comfy and it offers a few decent-priced options for food.

I was sad to leave, I always am. Leaving is my least favorite part of a trip. Both flights (going and coming back) were horrendous. The Economy-Class seats at Delta and US Airways are terribly uncomfortable and narrow, and damn the day they decided to start scrimping on food! Snacks and drinks at airplanes now are a joke! Even the peanuts are bad. Plus we had a small incident with one of the flight attendants from Delta. I wouldn't bother saving a few bucks to fly with them again. It's not worth it.

So, my take on San Diego?

A nice place to visit, it's incredibly near to Mexico (one of the trolley lines, the Blue Line, goes all the way to Tijuana ... haaa! How I would have loved to make that trip!), and it shows mainly on the food. The climate is bizarre: the sun heats you up and makes you sweat, but the breeze is chilly. I'm surprised I didn't get sick. People there are terminally nice and customer service is incredibly great at large!


The views and the scenery are what you would expect of a city lining a docking bay: boats and seagulls abound, and sunsets are quite tranquil and pretty. Nothing much that is missing in this island, though. Only detail is that the city is cleaner and more orderly (and, of course, this being California, you have way much more chances of running into the beautiful and famous - not an exceptionally great plus to me). It's expensive, and the people there seem to be living life much more preoccupied with how they look than with what they think. Maybe I'm mistaken, though.

I noticed two distinct social classes: the upscale rich kids, visiting Old Town for an afternoon of shopping, and the Mexicans, either obviously service workers and maids, or kids out into the other part of town that's somewhat less refined, less touristic - the part of town I would have liked to get to know better.


BTW: Trains got to me. Line cars were pretty and quaint - I had never seen one in real life. But trains are something else. I had seen the Metro at NYC, which is wonderfully engrossing and I will forever be in love with it. But the train in San Diego was the first actual freight train I've seen in my life. I couldn't have fathomed the length of these vehicles, and no one could have conveyed to me the attention their prescence commands ... at least the attention they command from me. I'm in love with trains. That much I can say.

I'm helplessly in love with New York City, this much I could surmise by visiting yet another place that does not fulfill and does not command the heart the same way New York has.

But fun was had, the company was insurmountably great... would do it again in a heartbeat. But let me rest for a year before ... the flight over there is too long and restless.

Also: I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows during my trip: FUCK Mrs. Rowlings! I feel cheated ...

Teaser for Memoirs on San Diego Comic Con 2007

I'm back on track, back at work, back to same ol' same ol'... after a week of travel, of discovering what it's like on the west side.

We attended the Comic Con on a year in which attendance was estimated to be a little over 123,000 individuals. It felt like it alright. Crowds were mind-bogglingly large, lines were overlong, and after 5 days of experiencing the warmth of a small town squeezed into an auditorium, I definitely needed to decompress.

I finally got to see a live panda and more than a few koalas curled up in their sleep. I learned a few things about a certain Australian bird and hugged a metal bear. I met a man that changed my life as a child, and without meaning to, I made his day. I saw an absurd amount of movie trailers and previews, some of which turned my eyes into starry orbs with wonderment, but of which I only remember the names of very few.

We (Eze, Pepe, Mari and I) shared our funds for food and other supplies, shared cheap sandwiches and bad pizza, shared a lot of time together, had good times, had arguments, but all in all we had a blast.

Later on, I will be posting pictures and a full recount (up to what my memory will allow) very soon.

San Diego Comic Con 2007 Update #1

Well, it's official: we've been here for two days now, and the whole Comic Con experience has been fun, extenuating and mind-boggling.

We took our late-afternoon flight on Tuesday 24th by Delta Airlines. I have to say the seats are freakishly small. I know I'm overweight, but I'm also small-sized, which makes me an average-sized individual, and I was feeling a bit too smug in their seats. Eze was definitely tight, and Pepe and Maricarmen had more than one trouble and pain over this detail, specially considering it was two 4-hour flights (both with delays, mind you).

At our arrival (at nearly midnight) we were ravenous. Delta Airlines didn't serve in-flight meals in any of our flights, so we had to tide our hunger over with the meager snacks they provided (plus the hideously bad coffee) and whatever snack we could chance across in between flights (which wasn't anything considerable because the time between connecting flights was pretty limited). We ordered for pizza delivery from the Days Inn hotel we are staying in, and while it seemed an awesome idea at the moment (everything tasted like a piece of mana), it proved to be not such a sound decision the next day (indigestion and heartburn ensued).

The stay at the Days Inn includes continental breakfast, but we found it to be less composed of fruit (which is the typical meal for which the term 'continental breakfast' has been coined) and more composed of assorted pastries.

Yesterday (Wednesday 25th) we visited the San Diego Zoo, to later on pre-register for the Comic Con and attend Preview Night (which was like opening a fun park to a huge herd of wild children). We've been juicing the most out of this visit and tomorrow and Saturday will be no exception. So bear with me and my lack of blogging. As we speak, a small pain has been creeping up onto my shoulder and I really need some sleep. So I'll have to leave it here, more as soon as I return to my blogging ways.

Thanks for reading!

Peace out!

The 1-Day Week

Well, it's almost Day Zero (in which my closest friends and I lift off to the Pacific zone), and I just had a pretty interesting weekend.

Eze and Pepe twisted the planned schedule for Saturday upside down, and we ended up handing in a pre-recorded program of Frecuencias Alternas in exchange for the freedom to spend the rest of the evening at Rebeca's and Tatiana's birthday. It was one of those huge, folkloric affairs, with two birthday cakes (more than enough to pass around twice and then serve in doggy bags for family and friends), confetti strewn all over the floor and a random mix of merengue, reggaetón and (gulp!) Gunther. We (Eze, Pepe, Maricarmen and I) spent most of the time sitting on a huge metal box perilously perched on the parking curb (and identified by graffiti as the "Skate Box"). We talked a lot, planned some more details of our upcoming trip, and had the kind of easy-going fun you only get to have with tried-and-true friends. We're the Clerks (see: Kevin Smith) generation, and we love it!

Sunday kicked off with rain and thunder, but we carried on with our plan anyway: to spend the afternoon with my Mom and brother. We picked them up and went to lunch at El Hipopótamo (a small, old Spanish-style restaurant, or tasca, as we like to call it 'cuz then we feel a bit more cosmopolitan when we go there). After a nice, thorough lunch (serrano ham was to be had, as well as milhojas, and that makes me very happy), we went to JC Penney in Plaza Carolina (so as to avoid Plaza las Américas, which gets hellishly crowded on weekends). I had spotted a few covetable items in the JC Penney shopper, and for the first time in a long while, I acted on the whim. Most of said covetable items were not so pretty up close, or were not available, but I got away from it all with a new pair of (gasp!) Mary Janes. How odd of me ¬_¬ ...


Later on we had dinner with Pepe at Dennys, and after another brief visit to Mom's (to help move a futon outside, where it will probably be carried off by someone desperate and very strong), we capped off the evening by watching Bridge to Terabithia. It was much better than I thought it would be and affected me more than I predicted. It's fully recommendable, but be prepared for the unexpected.

Oh! Eze also bought Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for me, and I just started reading it. NO FUCKING SPOILERS, you read me!?

So, it's nearly 5PM, a bit over an hour to go before quitting time, and tomorrow we depart at 4:52PM. In 24 hours I'll most likely be strapped to a plane seat, looking out of the nearest window and bracing myself for the emotional orgasm liftoff always brings. I'll keep posting as much as our daily activities let me, and I'll definitely take as many pictures as I can.

I'm giddy! I can hardly wait!

Little Notes #6: Time Traveling with Bunnies

A month or so ago Eze introduced me to the Dr. Who series, starting with the 9th doctor (Christopher Eccleston). This introduction coincided with the season 3 finale of Battlestar Galactica (another obsession Eze introduced me to), so I was thirsty for yet more sci-fi. Little by little, I realize I'm becoming a bigger geek than I thought myself capable of. However, the sheer and full realization of this came last night as I watched The Last Mimzy.



Think not so much in terms of storyline, but more in terms of reference. This is like putting together an old love of mine (Alice in Wonderland) and a newfound love (time traveling) linked together by an element I was called to awareness of by my brother (the Jabberwocky). The film becomes for me, then, a beautiful work of art and an enthralling sci-fi story.



So, suffice it to say (since I have no intention of spoiling the plot for anyone), I'd be incredibly happy to have an adventure traveling through time in the TARDIS along with Doctor Who #9 and Mimzy... I'd be incredibly happy and tickled pink ...